


So I Know These Guys. They're Hitmen

by thisisnottheonlyempire (willhelmina)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Prologue, rewriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willhelmina/pseuds/thisisnottheonlyempire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>so Jared knows these guys, Paul, Gino, Sean and Beau. They're the best hitmen he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so I wrote this about a year ago it was going to act as a prologue to a much larger fic. well, a) I'm terrible at writing long fics and b) i didn't have (and still don't) have the drive to write everyday.
> 
> But I'm gonna take another wack at it again, gonna actually put on paper and write it.
> 
> we'll see though.

It's a rare occasion Jared would go grocery shopping by himself but when all four of the boys are working, well, it's unavoidable. He shimmies through the large groups of people gathered in the small Raleigh store, making his way to the dairy case. Adjusting the specs that sit on the bridge of his nose, he studies the list. Milk, skim milk, cheese, yogurt, orange juice. All the basics.  
  
Scribbled at the right next to it is beer and vodka, right next to it is "ps: not the cheap shit, Jared :)" and he knows exactly who wrote that.  
  
These guys.  
  
Guess he's stopping to get booze.  
  
He sticks the dairy into his cart and makes his way down the next aisle. Next is pasta, sauce, a neatly written "soup", mashed potatoes, green beans, carrots. The list seems to go on and on as Jared finally gets to read it. It's like feeding teenagers. Fill up the fridge and the next day it's empty. At least he's paid good and can afford it, and they usually reimburse him.  
  
No big deal.  
  
His phone buzzes against his him, pulling him in his thoughts. Sean pops up on his screen and a smirk plays across his lips. He lets it buzz once. Twice. Three times.  
  
"Aren't you on a job?" That's Sean for ya.

The laugh is infectious because a smile breaks out onto his lips; Sean always makes him smile.  
  
_"I'm almost done. Just trying to look normal and not like I'm tailing my target,"_  Sean reports.  _"What are you doing, sweet cheeks?"_  
  
Jared rolls his eyes. "You know I hate that nickname."

Sean laughs again. _"It fits you, though. You are the youngest of us."_  
  
"Shut up, Sean."

 _"You love it, sweet cheeks."_  
  
"Sean, get back to work."  
  
_"Not before you tell me what you are doing."_  
  
Jared rolls his eyes again, rounding the corner to the next aisle.  
  
Except, he doesn't realize that someone was coming towards him. Their carts collide and Jared's phone slides out of his hand. He curses under his breath, bending down to pick it up. No damage and it didn't hang up on him. Thank god. Sean would be calling in the Calvary. He sighs.  
  
_"Jared? Jared you still there!"_

"Yeah, Sean. I'm okay. Just a small cart accident."  
  
_"Grocery shopping, eh? Coulda waited. I mean, Paul and Gino-"_

"I'm sorry. Parker wanted cookies and I wasn't watching and..." The man talking stops and Jared whips his head towards the stranger, Sean's voice drowned out him.  
  
"Look, it's not a problem and-" Jared's voice dies in his throat because a wide-eyed Eric Staal is staring at him and this isn't good. Not good at all.  
  
"Jared, is that you?" Eric chokes.  
  
"Sean, I gotta go," Jared whispers, closing his phone.  
  
The faint calls of his name are cut off.  
  
This is not good at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: 2/21/16 - I've been toying with this for a few months now, trying to get it form into some coherent story. It's been a challenge. This title is no longer part of the series. It's a draft to a draft to a draft, I suppose.

“ _It's been more than two years since the disappearance of Jared Staal, youngest sibling of the Staal family and former right wing of the Charlotte Checkers. He's been missing since January of 2013, when he failed to show up for the Hurricanes training camp. It was believed, at first, to be a kidnapping, but when Police investigated, the found no foul play and the case went cold. That was, until Jared sent a letter to his parents in late 2013._

 

_In the letter, it explained that he believed he was no longer was fit for hockey. That his name Staal was too large to live up to. Not wanting to disappoint anyone, he decided he was going to “explore new horizons” and hopefully, “he would find who he is and what he is supposed to be doing:. That was the last anyone heard of him._

 

_Just recently, we got in contact with Linda and Henry Staal, parents of the Staal siblings, to talk about the upcoming third anniversary. With the holidays right around the corner, they are waiting for more news from Jared.”_

 

_“It's hard sometimes. I think about him every day. What he's doing, who he's with,” Linda Staal says, wiping the forming tears from her eyes. “I just would like another email for him someday. Please...wherever you are...please just let us know you're alive, that you're safe.”_

 

_Henry Staal just wraps an arm around his wife, resting his chin atop her head. He comforts her briefly before saying, “Please, Jare...come home. For everyone.”_

 

_“We were also able to catch up with Eric and Jordan Staal, captain and alternate captain...”_

 

Jared adjusts the (fake) glasses on his face. He's done watching because, one) he's already thinking about sending anoter letter and two) the barista is calling his name and handing him his coffee. Coffee, the breakfast of champions and those who work twenty-four hour days, like himself. At least, that's what it feels like most of the time.

 

“Sustenance,” He whispers before sipping the piping hot coffee. Like a dream.

 

His pocket vibrates. And it begins.

 

_See you're famous again. That time of year?_

 

He types back, _not as famous as you apparently. Saw your handiwork over in Moscow._

 

_I try. :)_

 

Jared rolls his eyes, sips his coffee and sighs. Perfection.

 

_Did you guys need something?_

 

_No, just checking in. Beau said you looked beat._

 

_No._

 

_Okay, maybe a little._

 

_Lol, I know you so well._

 

_Feels like you guys are on overtime, the amount of orders you guys have been putting in._

 

_Well, after this week, we are on vacation, sweet cheeks. You'll be seeing more of our ugly mugs around._

 

_Oh great. And I'm telling Beau you called him ugly. ;)_

 

_I'll deny everything. :)_

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this finally everything for this au, as I'm abandoning it. Starting fresh as they say. It was going to be a group of guys who were assassins and jared being their hacker but it never panned out the way I wanted so here I am posting unfinished drafts of it. Theyre might be more? Gotta dig out my hard drive and take a quick glance thru it so there may be more but I think this was all I wrote.
> 
> There are two different drafts to this, as you can see by the separation. Both of them take place right after the interaction between sean and jared.

 He grabs a table in the corner of the small corner Starbucks and gets settled.  He wrestles his laptop from it’s bag, placing his coffee on the window sill. He takes a quick glance around the place. It’s fairly quiet for almost nine in the morning. A young couple sits in the corner opposite of him, talking quietly. She giggles softly, smiling bright at him. He laughs, grasping her hand tight. They rise slowly, empty cups discarded in the trash. The bell rings as they leave.

 

 It’s officially empty. Slow for a Tuesday morning.

 

 He opens the beat up lid slowly, waiting for it to load. It’s nearly three years old, so it takes it a few minutes. Maybe he should requisition for a new one. He sighs, cracking his knuckles nervously on the table. Any minute now.

 

 It bings lowly when his desktop appears. His background is the blue default.

 

 

 

He beings typing…

 

 Dear Mom and Dad…

 

 No. Delete.

 

 Hey, Mom and Dad. It’s Jared…

 

 God, no. Delete.

 

-x-

 

 He slides a tip – a decent tip – into the small tip jar on the counter because he really appreciates coffee and turns towards the door. Except he miscalculates and bumps into the stranger that's entering the starbucks. Except it's not a stranger. He knows who it is and it takes everything in him not to start cursing up a storm.

 

 “Jared? Jared Staal?” He's face to face with Carolina's Justin Bieber, Jeff Skinner. Not good.

 

 It takes him a moment to come back to himself because Jeff Skinner is in his face and he recognizes him even with the glasses on his face. This isn't good. Not good at all.

 

 “Jared Staal, right? What are you doing here? Does Eric know you're here?” Jeff spews out these questions all that once and Jared's head is still spinning.

 

 “I...I have know idea who you're talking about,” He spits out before making a hasty retreat.

 

 This isn't good.

 

 He gets back to the Sanctum in one peace. So to speak.

 

 Okay, so maybe hiding in Raleigh was a really bad idea. But Sean always says, hide in plain sight. It should apply to him too. No one should have recognized him. He's always wearing the fake specs and his hood almost never leaves his head unless he's inside.

 

 It'll be okay. It has to be. And for the love of god, don't tell the guys.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just kidding. One more. Back when it was jonny and not beau but that changry after certain things happened with a certain player

 “Sharpshooter, what's your twenty?”

 

 Silence.

 

 “Sharpshooter, I repeat, what's your twenty?”

 

 Still silence.

 

 This is part of the mission that always makes Jared's stomach drop.

 

 The execution.

 

 Any wrong move, any miscalculation and you would be caught. Probably jail. Probably killed.

 

 Jared sucks in a breath, heart rate definitely up.

 

 “Sharpshooter!”

 

 “Calm yourself, eh?” The soothing gruff voice of Sean Avery comes over his speakers and Jared feels like a beer right about now.

 

 “You know, I really don't appreciate when you go radio silent, Sean.”

 

 “You need to learn to not get your panties in a twist.”

 

 “They always fight?” Gino's voice comes over the speaker next. He's the newest recruit of their little group. His English is impeccable but he soaks up the attention he gets from “not being able to understand”. He's got a big heart and even bigger trigger finger and Sean says (though you take what Sean says with a grain of salt) he's a loose canon. Paulie just rolls his eyes at Sean when he says that.

 

 Though Jared has seen him take down twenty guys with just five bullets left in his gun.

 

 Impressive, but scary as shit.

 

 “Yeah, G. They always fight.” Paulie's pacifying voices comes over and Jared just shakes his head. Group therapy time between him and the boys. Paulie, the second in command who was forced into the middle child role. Always getting between Jared and Sean, breaking up whatever the daily spat is. He's got a heart of gold but a thing for poison. It's not pretty when it ends.

 

 “Can we get back to the job, please?” Toews, having precise timing as always. Recruited by Paulie and Sean two years ago. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty, preferring hand-to-hand and a knife to finish  them off. If Sean goes down, he'd want Toews to take up the leader position. He imagines Sean would want it to.

 

 “Target insight.” Its a whisper, Toews, he must be close.

 

 He can see it in his minds eye now. Sean across the street in an empty building, one that's been run-down for years. He's back, hidden from view, straddling a chair, another sitting in front of him. The sniper rifle gently resting on the back of the other chair, steady. His breathing slows. He's silent. Finger ghosting over the trigger.

 

 Toews is on the roof, head buried in a pair of binoculars.  The man's security, stationed on the roof, is down, necks snapped and limbs broken. He watches like a hawk ans the man passes back and forth. Just like Sean.

 

 Paulie's in the lobby, head buried in the newspaper, but he's really watching the security. They're goofing off as always, poking and prodding at each other. Totally oblivious to the world around them.

 

 Gino's in the coffee shop nearby, sipping on a latte. His job: response time. How long does it take for the backup to arrive.


End file.
